


Hit A Home Run

by dreamer_of_dreams



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Baking, Gen, Humor, Post season 3 episode 5, Shadow of a doubt - Freeform, it's all happy no angst i promise, pineapple jam tarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:19:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamer_of_dreams/pseuds/dreamer_of_dreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donna makes scrumptious pineapple jam tarts and shares it with her friends. (I suck at summaries, I know. Don't look at me. *hides under the blanket*)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit A Home Run

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just finished writing a Supernatural fanfic and I'm bummed out. To cheer myself up, I'm eating pineapple jam tarts while writing this fic.

Harvey has just gotten comfortable in his seat as he fires up his laptop when Donna walks in with a giddy smile. She has a small box in her hands that she gently puts on his desk as though presenting him with a gift. He is curious -very much so- but pretends to be busy by opening his case file in his laptop and scrolling away. He expects her to get the point and leave but then again, when has Donna ever been that easy? But he has to give her some credits though. Instead of calling out his bluff or interrupting him while he's reading, she waits patiently. She still has that big smile plastered on her face and it is getting borderline creepy by the second.

"What?" Harvey asks with an annoyed expression that he has perfected over the years.

She just tilts her head towards the box, prompting him to take a look.

With a sigh, Harvey pulls the box towards himself and opens it gingerly. The tantalizing aroma fills his room instantly and he sees the contents of the box.

"Home-made pineapple jam tarts. Go ahead, try it," Donna says with a wide smile.

"It's 8.30 and the business hour has started. I'm working. So should you," he states.

"Come on. No one's watching. I need someone to taste it," Donna says.

"So, I'm your experimental rat? No, thank you."

"What are friends for? Take a bite. I know you want to."

"In all my years of knowing you, you have never once baked. Why now?" 

"Because... I have company tonight."

"Who?"

"That's none of your business, Harvey. I just need you to taste it and let me know if it's any good," Donna admonishes.

"It's Stephen, isn't it? I'm trying not to be offended here but you never said you were with him," he stage-whispers.

"I did. I told you here, in the office that day--"

Harvey puts his hand up to silence her and explains, "You said you were sleeping together. If you're baking for him, then there's more to that story."

Donna just rolls her eyes. 

"It has been sometime since I got back in the game. I'm just covering all the bases."

"From the look on Stephen's face every morning, I think you already hit a home run."

"You think? Oh please, I know," Donna says with an arrogant smirk. 

"Then, what is this for?"

He watches as Donna's smile get softer and she tilts her head a little.

"Hmmmm... I don't trust him, Donna. I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. Now just eat the damn tart."

Harvey puts the bite-sized roll in his mouth and chews tentatively. He returns his focus to the brief on his laptop screen. Donna watches his face expectantly.

"So, any good?" 

She bounces on her feet like a child waiting for a ride in the theme park.

Harvey just lifts his eyebrow as his mouth is still full with pastry.

"No good then," her smile fades. 

"Never mind, I can buy some from the bakery shop in the corner of 25th," she says in fake nonchalance.

She pulls the box towards her again when Harvey puts his hand on the box and says, "Take your hands off my tarts and nobody gets hurt."

" _Your_ tarts?" Donna asks with a raised eyebrow.

"They are mine now. Leave. And don't come back."

Donna tries to tug at it one more time but gives it up when Harvey pulls back. She walks out with a conceited smile because if Harvey Specter thinks it's good, you better believe it.

*****

During lunch time, Mike saunters to Donna's cubicle and leans on it as he waits for her to look up. She continues to type away without being distracted. 

"You're not gonna ask why I'm here?" Mike asks.

"Nope," Donna answers without looking up.

"Then I'll just wait here."

"Okay."

Mike sighs and says, "Okay, fine, you win. I can never demand your attention."

"You have finally learnt," she says with a smile and puts her hands on her lap as she gives him her attention willingly.

"So... I heard from someone that someone else baked tarts for a date and it tastes like heaven."

"Rachel," Donna states as a fact instead of asking.

"I am neither confirming nor denying anything." 

"Then, you're not getting any," Donna deadpans.

"Okay, alright. It was Rachel. Don't tell her I told you. Pretend you figured it out by yourself."

"First of all, I don't need to pretend. I'm Donna, I am all-knowing. Second, wow, way to throw your girlfriend under the bus, Mike." 

"Girlfriend? Tart?" Mike says as he holds both his hands out like balancing on a scale. 

Eventually, the hand that indicates tart rises higher and triumphs the one that represents Rachel.

"I will be sure to let her know," Donna answers with a smirk.

"Come on, Donna. You know what I'm asking."

She sighs. 

"What _are_ you asking, Mike?" 

"You and Stephen Huntley? You sure about that?"

"No."

"Then?"

"We're not _together_ together."

"Baking for someone and asking Rachel to taste it? I think that means something more than _just_ together."

"God, what is up with you guys? I can look after myself, thank you very much," she snaps.

"You guys as in...?" he drawls so she could answer for him.

"As in you and Harvey and Rachel which is basically everyone who knows about us."

"So, Harvey does know. Phew, crisis averted," Mike says with a dramatic hand-swiping motion across his forehead.

"Of course he knows. He's my taste tester."

"I thought Rachel was your taste tester."

"She is. But we all know her taste in food is a little too 'exotic' for the common tongue," Donna says with air quotes. "Don't tell her I said that."

"I won't if you won't tell that I chose tarts over her."

"Deal."

“So… the tarts?” Mike asks impatiently.

“Oh, sorry about that. Harvey took the whole box for himself.”

“The whole box? What the hell?”

“Go ask him.”

Mike glances into Harvey’s room and sees the older lawyer twirling a pen in his hand as he reads a file on his lap. He also notices a small, blue box on his desk. It looks reachable. So, Mike knocks on the glass door and walks in. 

“So, Harvey, I want to talk to you about—“

Harvey puts his hand up, still reading intently. Mike leans against his desk to try and reach the box.

“Lay a finger on it and I’ll make you work with Katrina permanently.”

Mike instantly moves a step back.

“Damn, what gave it away?” Mike asks.

“Everything,” Harvey answers nonchalantly as his eyes scan the words in front of him. 

“Like what? For educational purposes, so I know better next time.”

“You knocked before you entered. And you waited for me to finish reading,” Harvey says as he looks up with a smirk.

“Can’t a man be courteous?”

“A man can. You? Not so much.”

“Come on, Harvey. Sharing is caring.”

“I don’t care, therefore I won’t share,” Harvey states as a matter-of-fact as he puts his file on the desk. 

“Rachel said it’s the best pineapple tart she has ever eaten. I don’t believe her.”

“Why not?”

“Because she tends to be biased towards Donna.”

“You know that Donna can hear everything you just said, right?”

“Shit.” 

Mike peers out of the glass door to meet Donna’s gaze. He puts on his best, most innocent grin.

“If you just share with me, then I wouldn’t have to question the delectability,” Mike says.

“Well, I’ll confirm that Rachel wasn’t exaggerating.”

“Wait a minute. Is that an admission in favour of Donna’s tarts? Are you saying it’s the best tart you have ever eaten?”

“Maybe,” Harvey shrugs.

“And how am I to trust your opinion?”

“Because unlike you, Mike, I eat in luxurious restaurants that you can’t even enter. I have good taste.”

“Yes but unlike you, I was raised by my Grammy and you know how grandmothers are with tarts.”

Harvey finally breaks out in a grin. 

“Donna, here’s a worthy competition,” he calls out while holding out the box.

Donna enters the room at once and says, “No, Mike. You’re not getting any. Don’t give him, Harvey.”

“Why not?” Mike asks petulantly.

“Because I already got 5 stars from both Rachel and Harvey. If I’m second best in your list of heavenly tarts, you will lower my average ratings.”

“So you choose to not compete in fear of losing? Come on, you’re better than that,” Harvey says.

When Donna makes a face at Harvey that pretty much tells, _’Give him the tart and I will castrate you’_ , Mike assures her that there is nothing to fear. His grandmother isn’t around anymore.

“Exactly. I’m not competing against a person. I’m against a legend and there’s no way I can top that,” Donna explains.

“Have a little faith, Donna,” Harvey says as he passes the box to Mike before Donna can take hold of it.

Mike pops one in his mouth and makes an appreciative noise. Donna seizes the box and glares at Harvey. Mike notices the way the two of them are staring at him, waiting for a response.

“So?” Harvey urges.

Mike rests a finger on his chin, pretending to think.

“Say it,” Donna prods.

“I find the opinions of both Harvey and Rachel…” He allows a dramatic pause before continuing, “valid and reliable. This is the best goddamn tart I’ve ever had. Now can I have one more?”

Donna outright grins.

“I topped Grammy?”

“Yeah, she makes sugar-free tarts so…” Mike makes a face.

Harvey interrupts, “Oh come on, that’s not a fair fight.”

“Who cares?” Donna says as she hands Mike the box. “You can have it all.”

She walks out of the room with a triumphant smile and a sway of her hips as she hears Harvey and Mike argue over who gets the box. She leans against her cubicle when she catches Stephen eyeing her from where he stands –in the corridor, talking to one of the partners. He winks at her. She flips her hair back in delight and takes a seat behind her desk. 

She mumbles to herself, “Tonight’s gonna be good.”

**Author's Note:**

> No, the tarts I'm eating are mediocre at best. I hope you enjoyed the story. Thank you for reading. :D


End file.
